Sunday Night, Monday Morning
by Lacadiva
Summary: In the midst of a personal crises, Harvey is there for Jessica. Will she let him? Jarvey Romance/Friendship/angst.


SUNDAY NIGHT, MONDAY MORNING

By

Lacadiva

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Suits is all USA network and Aaron Korsh. I'm just trying on Jessica's heels. They're very expensive…and cute!

Summary:. After a personal tragedy, Harvey is there for Jessica. She comes home to find that someone is there. Jessica/Harvey Friendship, angst/tension

Thursday, 8:40 pm

"Are you stalking me, Harvey?"

Jessica had been sitting alone in the ornate lobby of a five star hotel pensively staring at the crackling flames of the fireplace for the better part of an hour. A crystalline glass quarter-filled with scotch sat untouched before her on the shiny oak wood table.

She had barely moved in all that time, only sat with her hand cupping her elbows, near-hugging herself against the chill she could not shake from her bones, self-comforting as only she knew how.

She had turned her phone to silent, and would not even acknowledge the subtle vibration or the bright screen alerting her to the caller's identity. Three times, it was Harvey, but she only stared with distracted fascination at how the liquid in her glass reacted to the tiny quakes created by the phone.

 _I just need a few moments, people…_

She wanted nothing more than to sit alone and think, and remember, and relive the few precious moments that her heart held fast and treasured. She was tired, so very tired.

The man who stood over her, hands shoved deep in the pocket of his dark coat, could see her exhaustion and her sadness even in this half-light. He knew her so well, that he could tell when her life was resonating on a sour note. And, as ever, as though kept a close secret like a pair of aces held to his vest, he was overcome by the force of her beauty.

Harvey reached for the glass of scotch before her and gave it a sniff. An eyebrow spiked approvingly before he took a conservative sip and returned it to its place before her.

"Nice," he said, and waited for an invitation to join her.

"You didn't answer my question," Jessica said.

When the invitation to sit did not come, he whipped his cashmere scarf from around his neck, slipped out of his overcoat and slid into the comfortable both seat before her.

"Stalking's illegal," he said. "I accidently followed you."

She let a smile play at her lips, and her deep brown eyes found his.

"Lame."

"True," he said. "But in my own defense, you left the office rather abruptly. We had an appointment."

"And I cancelled it."

"You don't cancel on me."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not saying you _can't_ cancel on me, Jessica. I'm saying you don't. Unless…"

"Harvey, I've had one hell of a week. I just need some time. So if you don't mind…"

"Not at all."

She waited for him to leave.

He didn't. Instead, he signaled a bowtie wearing waiter to attend him and ordered what Jessica was…or wasn't…drinking.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, but was only met by more silence. Her eyes returned to the fireplace crackling at the head of the room.

She considered, wondered, how close could she get to the door before Harvey would try something ridiculously gallant, like following her, gently grabbing her arm…insisting she confide in him.

Not tonight.

"Harvey…I just need a little time."

"Sure," he said, taking another sip of her drink. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere.

"Alone," she emphasized.

"Not happening."

She thought she could escape the scrutiny of her employees and partners by absconding to this hotel lobby. Not a chance.

"Go home, Harvey. It's Friday. Don't you have a date or whatever you call it these days?"

"I cancelled my whatchamacallit," he said. "I'm all yours."

She lifted her chin just slightly, enough to remind Harvey – and herself – of her station, and took a deep breath. She took a sip of the scotch, which she hoped would supply liquid courage, but it offered nothing but a slow burn that did not sit well on her empty stomach.

"I have an Aunt," she said, then, "Had an Aunt. Edina. She died earlier this week."

Harvey's face reflected his condolences. He muddled through his thoughts searching for just the right words to give her comfort and support. Before he could speak the waiter appeared with his drink and sat it before him. He slid his freshly poured drink across the table to Jessica, and took the one he had sampled and held it up for a toast.

"To Aunt Edina," he offered, and waited for Jessica to accept his offer. She did. A small clink of crystal glasses…eyes connecting.

"You were close?"

"When I was young. I promised several times I would take time off from work and visit her."

"You can't beat yourself up for that, Jessica."

"Yes, I can," she said quietly and took another sip.

"She was good to me. I won't bore you with Pearson family horror stories. Suffice to say that when my parents were emotionally or physically absent because of their work, I could always depend on Edina. She taught me about make up. And break ups. She taught me how to be a swan…how to walk tall. She's the only reason I survived high school.

"She was a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart, and she always made time for me. I should have made more time for her."

"When is the funeral?"

"Tomorrow."

"That's quick."

"Per her wishes. She didn't want to drag things out. It wasn't her style."

"Sounds like a classy woman. You going?"

"I have a car picking me up in about 30 minutes. I'll be gone all weekend, back early Sunday night. You'll contain any little fires that might break out while I'm away, won't you?"

"Of course, Jessica."

She took another sip and shuddered, hoping Harvey didn't see it. Tears were being held back by the flimsiest of defenses.

"There's more to this," Harvey offered. "If you want talk…"

"No, Harvey," she said, even she though she did not believe her own words. If only she could tell him on what she was reflecting before he had arrived and interrupted her melancholic funk.

"C'mon, Jessica," Harvey pushed. "Look…"

He loosened and removed his tie, then unbuttoned the top button of his Ralph Lauren shirt.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jessica asked.

"Making it easy for you. Whatever you say, whatever you need to talk about, I'm here to listen, and I promise I won't say a word. I'm not your partner right now. I'm a friend, and I want to help. Whatever formal stuff is between us, let it go for five minutes and say what you want. When you're done, I'll put my tie back on…we'll be professional colleagues once more and promise I won't bring it up again. It'll be as if this talk never happened."

"I don't think this is a good idea…"

"C'mon. Let me be a friend."

He locked eyes with her. She knew this dance so well. He would be stubborn, insisting, though never pleading. She would refuse. He would be hurt, but never admit it. She would see it in his face, that blank stare that said he'd retreated to someplace inside where he could lick his wounds in private, and never let anyone know that Harvey Spector could be wounded. He'd be quiet, and eventually he would leave, and all would return to normal.

There had been enough hurt already.

She took a deep breath and wondered if she had lost her mind for what she was about to admit.

"I was considering…" she began, "…so many things…" but stopped to choose her words more carefully.

"In my life…in my work…it's necessary to be a certain way."

"Tough? Hard?" Harvey offered.

"Is that what you see?"

"It's not an insult."

"It isn't…and it is. I was thinking strong. Resilient."

"That's what I meant," he amended quickly.

"People come at me with such force of will, day in and day out…and I give back. People push, I push back…"

Harvey patiently waited for her to continue.

"I found myself wishing for someone in my life who didn't push. Who would deal with me…differently…"

Jessica looked away as if the word she was about to utter embarrassed her to think it, embarrassed her more to say it.

"…tenderly."

"Oh."

Harvey sat back while a myriad thoughts and images washed through his mind.

"Reign it in, Harvey. I'm not talking about sex."

"I wasn't thinking about sex."

"To be such an amazing lawyer you can be a terrible liar."

"You think I'm amazing?"

Jessica smiled uncomfortably.

"This was a mistake."

"Jessica…"

"I should not have entered into this conversation."

Harvey touched her hand, then held it. He was always amazed how soft and delicate it felt.

"You talk, I'll shut up," he said.

"I've already said too much."

"Talk."

She took a deep breath, and continued.

"The point of all this is…I miss having people in my life who deal with me gently. As ridiculous as it sounds, I am so tired of being a wall and having clients and partners ramming against me, trying to break me down, or chip me away, piece by piece. Louis, Hardman, my father, you…"

"Me? I don't…!"

Harvey caught himself, remembered his promise, swallowed his desire to clear his name, and settled back into the seat to listen in silence.

"Edina was that for me when I was young. And now she's gone. So, I will go home, and my family will attempt chip away at my wall…and I will help bury my aunt…and I will return home Sunday night, only to return to work Monday morning, and the ramming begins anew."

Harvey let go of her hand.

He spoke quietly. "I don't know what to say, Jessica,"

"There's nothing to say, Harvey. It's just the way things are, the nature of the beast. I chose this. I'm not sorry. But on occasion, I'm am tired."

"There's more, isn't it?"

"I think I've said more than enough," she told him, and retreated back into silence.

They sat quietly for a few beats, until Jessica's phone vibrated, and a message appeared onscreen indicating that her limo had arrived. Without preamble she stood and let Harvey help her into her coat, then turned back to him.

"This conversation…"

"Never happened," Harvey finished. "Safe trip home."

She nodded and headed for the door.

Harvey sat to finish his drink and contemplate the conversation that never happened.

 _SUNDAY NIGHT_

 _6:17 pm_

When she stepped inside her home, she was startled to find that a few lights were on. Had she forgotten…?

"Before you ask," the familiar masculine voice chimed out, startling her and relieving her of anxiety all at once, "…and for the record, I'm not stalking you."

Jessica dropped her overnight bag and purse on the floor.

"How did you get into my apartment, Harvey?"

He stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of red wine in hand, dressed more casually than usual…dark wash jean, white shirt untucked with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was also barefoot.

"The desk guy let me in," he answered. "He likes me."

He proffered her one of the glasses. "Welcome home."

Jessica stared him down for a moment, then accepted the glass.

"What is that smell?" she asked.

"I may have fiddled curiously with one or two bottles of your perfume."

She cut him an incredulous look that made him smile like a schoolboy.

"You were in my bedroom?"

"Not for long."

"Harvey…I'm exhausted, I'm grieving…if you want something from me…"

"Osso buco."

"Osso buco?"

"Osso buco, warming in the slow cooker."

"You're telling me you _made_ osso buco?"

"Your favorite restaurant made and delivered it," he said with a sly smile, then, "I'm just keep it warm for you."

"I don't have a slow cooker, Harvey."

"Now you do. You're welcome."

"I appreciate it, Harvey, now if you don't mind…"

Harvey sat is wine glass down. Instead of finding his shoes, he reached for the coat resting upon Jessica's shoulder, removed it and laid it over the back of the soft white leather couch.

"Shoes," he said.

Jessica slipped out of her Christian Louboutins and dropped four inches shorter before Harvey's eyes.

He held out a hand.

"We're not doing this," she said.

"You don't know what we're doing."

She hesitated still.

"Trust me," he said in his deepest, most trusting voice.

She placed her hand in his, and let him lead her across the room.

When she stepped into the bathroom, she was shocked to find a room filled with white candles, all alight and flickering at the slightest shift of air. A warm, fragrant bubble bath had been drawn, and a plush gold towel sat next to an even plusher deep red robe.

"What are you suggesting, Mr. Spector?"

"I'm suggesting you get naked and get in that tub. When you're done, dinner is served."

"Harvey," Jessica said, exasperation in her voice, "what is this all about?"

"You said you needed something different. This is different. You said you were tired of people chipping away at you. So let me put something back."

"You promised we wouldn't talk about this again."

"I'm a lawyer."

 _LATER_

She soaked for an hour. Cried. Regrouped. Cried again. Reminisced, smiled. Allowed her mind to wander into pleasant thoughts of family and past, then far-off places like tropical white sand beaches, crystal clear water and warm salty breezes.

She backtracked and heard Edina's eulogy spoken over a weak PA system. She remembered the first time Edina polished her toes and taught her how to apply mascara.

Once or twice she thought of Harvey. But she was, if nothing else, a disciplinarian when it came to marshaling her thoughts. Her imaginings never went beyond standing before him and tying one of his Forzieri ties, or sharing in their love of jazz.

She smiled as almost instantly _A Night in Tunisia_ began playing softly on the bathroom speakers. Harvey knew that was one of her favorite pieces. And one of his, too.

When she'd sat soaking long enough she drained the tub and wrapped herself snuggly in side her plush robe, relishing in the ultra-soft fabric against her skin.

She hesitated before stepping out of the bathroom, not sure what she would find on the other side of the door.

She remained in her room for a bit, brushing her hair and gently braiding it, letting flyaway wisps fall where they may. She dotted on the tiniest bit of perfume, for herself, not for Harvey, she promised herself, and slipped into conservatively pretty lounging pajamas.

When she stepped out of her bedroom, the lights were low and atmospheric, jazz was still playing softly, and the smell of dinner made her delicate stomach rumble like a lumberjack's.

The dining table was set for two. Wine was poured. Harvey was standing by the table.

"You hungry?"

She could only smile as Harvey pulled out the chair for her in true gentlemanly fashion.

He served her plate, served his own, and sat down across from her.

They ate in silence. Or, in Jessica's case, barely ate. Her fork and knife scraped the plate and clinked together enough to give the impression that she was eating, but very little of the osso buco actually made it to her mouth. Harvey noticed but fought not to make an issue of it. Perhaps she'd be hungry later….

Jessica fought to keep her curious eyes down, away from her partner's, hoping to get through the evening without any further embarrassing, revealing heart-to-heart over-sharing moments.

"So…the funeral..." Harvey began.

"Beautiful. Heartbreaking."

"A lot of people?"

"Quite a lot. A lot of people loved her."

Jessica froze for a moment, staring at her plate while unsettling thoughts interrupted her usual disciplined process. These were the other thoughts torturing her that night she sat in the hotel lobby bar. This was the part that was far too humiliating to speak out loud, to anyone, especially Harvey.

This was one of her deepest fears.

 _Who would show up for my funeral?_

"What?" Harvey asked.

She was surprised that he had noticed her mental submergence. Had she been that obvious?

"Nothing," she said, and took a small bite of the veal a chewed, barely tasting it.

 _Would the people who come to my funeral really know me? Care?_

"Jessica?"

She'd slipped into her head again, let her guard down.

"I'm sorry," she spoke softly.

She placed her fork down and patted her mouth gently with a linen napkin.

"Just a little tired."

"That's all?"

"What else would it be?"

 _Would anybody really care if she were no longer among the living?_

"Something's on your mind," said Harvey.

"Something's always on my mind."

"You know what I mean."

"I plead the fifth."

Harvey put his knife and fork down now, but with a sense of determination.

"This isn't working."

He rose and took both their plates and disappeared into the kitchen, giving Jessica a welcome bit of space to navigate her thoughts in private.

 _Did her life make a difference to anyone?_

She heard Harvey puttering around in the kitchen a bit, and decided that when he returned, she would ask him to leave.

When Harvey did returned, he had his shoes on and was already slipping his scarf around his neck.

"Get your coat," he told her. It was not a request.

"And where are we going?"

"We're just getting out of here for a bit. Please."

It was said with such gentleness that she felt a bit of the ice around her heart grow warm.

"I'm not dressed for the street."

"Coat, boots, that's all you need."

She considered fighting him, but couldn't help but wonder what he was planning to do.

She slid from the table and reached for her fur on still draped across the back of her white leather couch.

"This better be worth it."

 _ONE HOUR LATER_

It took a lot to amaze Harvey. One of the few things that did amaze him was that no matter how cold the weather (and tonight wasn't as cold as Brooklyn could get), there was always a line of people at Nathan's waiting for a hotdog. Tonight was no exception.

He purchased two chilidogs, and raised them high over his head as he made his way out of the crowded place, back to the boardwalk.

Jessica stood staring out at the dark, inky water, her mind still racing with thoughts of what impact her death would have upon the big wide world. She saw it like the ocean. There would be a ripple, but it would be lost in a crashing wave, obliterated, and nary a soul would remember her name. She'd be a name on the wall, until Louis or Harvey or Jeff or any number of ambitious attorneys came along a changed everything.

Everything she'd worked for.

She heard Harvey approaching but did not turn around immediately. There was something so calming about cold nights and no tourists. Just the stars, the waves, the boards…

"Here."

She smiled, accepting the hotdog and giving it a careful look before indulging.

"If I spill chili on this coat…" she began.

"I'll get you another," Harvey quipped, and took a big bite. "That's good," he said with a mouthful, then made gibberish noises in an attempt at a Sylvester Stallone impression.

Jessica took a bite and savored it. "I hate to say it Harvey…"

"Say it. Say it."

"This was a good idea."

"You should listen to me more often."

"Don't get cocky."

She took another bite, and they walked together, slowly down the boardwalk, listening to the sound of their heels on the wood, and the ambient sounds of the nearly deserted boardwalk. The still roller coasters were like twisted skeletons. In a few weeks, there would be Christmas lights. For now, this place belonged to her and Harvey.

Her mind returned to her earlier thoughts.

 _Will I be mourned? Or would 'colleagues' and clients and courtroom opponents make an appearance to vapidly pay their respects and get drunk and swap stories about iron lady Jessica Pearson?_

 _Would anyone be sorry that she was gone? Would any one shed a tear? Would anyone mourn?_

"The answer is yes."

Her stomach flip-flopped violently, and her breath caught in her throat when Harvey spoke.

 _When did Harvey Spector become a mind reader?_

"It's not hard to imagine what's going through your head right now…other than the fact that, this is possibly the best dog you've even eaten."

His smile was uncomfortable; Jessica could tell that even under the dull street lamp. He continued.

"Not a lot of people will care when you're gone. But I will. If you're wondering if anyone's going to shed a tear, rest assured, I'll be one of them."

"Harvey…"

"My hope is," Harvey began, the words coming to him slowly and painfully, as if this were something he should probably never say out loud. "My hope is that I go first, and I won't have to worry about…you know…."

Her eyes felt hot, and she blinked back unwanted tears. Her throat constricted, and she felt as if she were choking slightly on the small piece of hotdog she had just swallowed. All she wanted to do was to stop him, shut him up…

 _This is too much._

"But if I don't…if I'm still here… I will be there. I will mourn. And I will give you one helluva send off."

"Harvey…"

He stopped, touching her arm, drawing her closer, so he could see the seriousness in his eyes, even in the dark.

"We're family."

Jessica nodded.

"Yes," was all that she could say.

They resumed walking slowly. She couldn't finish her hotdog. Harvey took what was left and tossed it like a free throw into a nearby trashcan along with his empty rapper.

"If I go first," Harvey said, "to hell with what my family wants. I want a New Orleans funeral. Jazz band, the funny little guy with the raggedy umbrella…the whole nine yards."

"Of course you do," she said, finally smiling. "The showier, the better."

"And I want everyone to get stinkin' drunk and tell stories about me. Everyone but Louis…"

Jessica laughed now.

"Afraid of what he'll say about you?"

"Not at all. He just can't tell a decent story. I don't want him boring the crap out of everyone at my funeral. And I want _you_ to sing."

"Sing? Harvey, you know I don't sing."

"That's exactly why I want you to. Pick something cool, like Billie Holiday. Ella Fitzgerald."

"You don't want to hear me sing, Harvey, trust me."

"I won't. I'll be dead. Besides, you can't deny me. It's my dying wish."

"Okay, I promise I'll sing at your funeral if you agree not to sing at mine."

"What?"

"I've heard you sing."

"I'm offended. I'm pretty good."

"Save it for somebody else's funeral."

They talked, and they laughed, and they eventually gave into the cold and walked back to where their limo waited to take Jessica back to her apartment.

Inside the heated vehicle, they sat in silence next to one another. The warmth, the closeness, was far too intimate.

Silence would be safer.

He walked her back to her door and waited until she'd slipped the key into the lock and opened it.

"Turn down service?" he offered with a snaky smile.

"I'm going to have to say no. But I will admit, it was a very lovely evening."

"But…?"

"No buts."

"Good. I could stay. Sleep on the couch. Total boy scout."

"Not my brand new white couch. But the offer is appreciated."

"You can call me anytime tonight if you need me."

She merely smiled and stepped inside.

"See you in the morning."

 _MONDAY MORNING_

Jessica arrived in perfect form, on time, and carried out her morning routine without missing a beat.

To those who offered condolences on her loss, she merely smiled and thanked them, offering nothing more. For those who said nothing about her loss, it was business as usual, and that was just fine as far as she was concerned.

When Harvey arrived, on his own time as usual, he stopped by the office and peeked inside the glass door.

"How are you?" he inquired.

"Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Hm…let me check…"

She waited a beat, then:

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Just checking."

"We have a meeting in 30?"

"I'll meet you in the conference room."

Jessica returned her attention to the file sitting before her. She felt Harvey lingering at her door but refused to look up. When she was certain that he was gone, she sat back in her ergonomic chair and stared at the ceiling.

Next time, when the time was right, she would tell him what was on her heart:

 _She knew which song she would sing for him._

THE END

 _Jarvey lovers, unite! Thank you so much for reading this, only my 2_ _nd_ _Suits story. If you like this story in the least, I hope you will kindly_ _ **review**_ _. Let your Jarvey-ness be known, and maybe more FF authors write what we like._


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